The bikini selfie is the new sunset picture. Photo / 123RF
It started with the A-list. Now 20-somethings love posting pictures in bikinis. Don't blame Love Island, says Hannah Evans — just get over it and send me a heart emoji.
I'd never post a picture of myself in my underwear on social media. I get anxious if I think the outfit I'm wearing to work might be too short, too tight or otherwise inappropriate. But a photo of me in a teeny-tiny, itsy-bitsy bikini? That I will gladly upload to Instagram – for friends, family, colleagues, contacts and the thousands of strangers who might come across my profile to see.
It's not just me. On social media, the bikini selfie is the new sunset picture. A few years ago it was just the likes of Kim Kardashian, Bella Hadid and Emily Ratajkowski – models and celebrities whose body is their business – posting pictures of themselves semi-clad in swimwear. Today, my friends and I, and hordes of other ordinary women just like us, have enthusiastically joined them. Take a quick scroll down my Instagram feed and you'll soon see me on a boat, on a rock, on the beach, in the sea, by the pool and on a sunlounger, wearing nothing more than my teensy two-piece. You can call it narcissism if you like; I call it self-love.
I won't lie, there is an element of vanity behind some of my bikini snaps. After spending the majority of my 20s hating my body, at 28 I've got to a point where I now quite like it. And why shouldn't I? My body is the result of hundreds of hours spent exercising and thousands spent on gym memberships. So I would be pretty annoyed if after all that time, money and hard work, I wasn't somewhat happy with the way it looked now.
Among my friends there are myriad more reasons behind our holiday hobby of posing in a bikini and posting the pictures.
"The body I have is the body I am supposed to have," says one friend. "And unless I do something drastic like stop eating or remove some fundamental bones, I will always have this body, so why the hell should I not pose in a bikini?"
I understand from older friends that this attitude is new, that before the advent of social media, many women – particularly those who felt their body to be "imperfect" – would resist being snapped in a bikini, reaching for a kaftan or cover-up before permitting pictures.
But my generation came of age in an era of not only social media but also of body positivity, of Lizzo (who posts bikini pictures), Ashley Graham and the plus-size model movement. "I might not look like Kendall Jenner but I have great tits," says my friend.
"Everyone else is naked on Instagram. Why can't I be?" asks another. She's not wrong. Social media is almost a clothes-free zone for people my age, with influencers and advertisers using flesh to push everything from fake tan to vegan burgers. Covering up for a picture these days, especially one taken on holiday when you're wearing only a bikini all day anyway, would come off as weirdly conservative. What are you, Amish?
My single friends' motivations are a little more calculating, posting bikini pictures deliberately to draw in men who might stumble across their Instagram profile. This bikini picture is the Trojan horse, masquerading as an innocent, happy holiday snap but in reality cleverly constructed to suck in potential suitors. "My Instagram is basically an extension of my dating app profile," says one friend. "You never know who's going to see your pictures so I want some on my page where I look great."
Tactical? Yes. Successful? Also yes. That same friend recently dated a high-profile professional sportsman. Their romance began when he randomly came across her profile and began liking her pictures – including several of her looking smoking hot in a bikini.
None of my friends, however, are willing to go on the record to admit one important truth: that they post bikini shots to social media because, like me, they think they look good half-naked.
That doesn't mean I love every photo I take. I can track how confident I felt on holiday based on how many bikini pictures I shared. I only uploaded one from last month's two-week trip to Mexico. I'd eaten far too many tacos and by the time I arrived on the beach on day seven of the trip, I felt like a burrito in a bikini. The result? A measly single photo shared.
Compare that with last summer in Hvar, Croatia, when I'd just got a personal trainer and had begun marathon training. I was bikini-snap happy, uploading a carousel of images of myself in my favourite blue number.
Unsurprisingly, very few of these pictures are candid or "in the moment": they are carefully staged. There's often an entire crew involved – one friend behind the phone camera, another directing: "Push your bum out." "Put your hand on your hip." "Pretend to laugh." For every photo uploaded, there are at least 50 that didn't make it off the camera roll.
The reactions to my gallery of posed bikini pictures differ depending on the audience. My mum always leaves a comment beneath the image, usually "Lovely" or a heart eyes emoji. My boyfriend silently likes them, while girlfriends leave a crescendo of enthusiastic emojis and words of praise and support.
I've only been trolled once for a bikini picture – a shot of me and three friends on a boat, which I posted on my story, meaning it expired after 24 hours. "You are the most irritating girls on Instagram," the message read, sent from an account with no followers or profile picture, usually a sign of a fake account. If somebody has created a new profile just so they can look at me in a bikini, who is the weird one here?
If you're wondering why young people are so obsessed with documenting everything they do, it's a generational thing. People my age and younger have grown up with cameras on our smartphones that have laser-sharp focus and endless gigabytes of memory.
As for bikini pictures, like many things we have the Kardashians and their ilk to thank, in part, for creating this monster. Remember Kim's "belfie" (bum selfie) from 2013? The mirror selfie of her post-baby body in a skimpy white swimsuit sent the internet into overdrive. An act of empowerment subverting the male gaze or simply self-indulgent? That's in the eye of the Instagram scroller. Models including Hadid and Ratajkowski have since made the bikini selfie their stock-in-trade, perfecting sexy (and slimming) poses that the rest of us mortals now copy.
Love Island has a lot to answer for too. Since the show launched in 2015, with its cast spending their entire time in swimwear and without their half-nakedness being anything to do with the day's drama, it has normalised the bikini as everyday wardrobe. High-end labels such as Triangl and Hunza G hire hot models to wear their latest collection, post about it on Instagram and immediately it goes viral. Bikinis – an item you once only thought about a few days before packing for the airport – have become year-round fashion, with "pool style" influencers (such as Tash Oakley, author of the account A Bikini A Day) joining street-style influencers in the cadre of trendsetters. No beach? No problem. If you can't be in Bondi, you can pose in your bedroom. And if you can't afford the real deal you can buy budget imitations sold by Asos and Pretty Little Thing.
It's not all a shallow bid for body validation. Some of my favourite bikini pictures (yes, I have favourites) are from holidays with girlfriends where we spent the days larking around on the beach or being silly in the water. Seeing these photos as I scroll unlocks the happy holiday memories attached to them.
But posting pictures of ourselves has also built confidence among me and my friends. It only takes a quick trot through social media to see that everyone's body is different. And you never really used to see that; in traditional media – on film and TV, in magazines and adverts – all you saw were stick-thin models. You had to go to the beach to see real bodies.
I'm not going to stop having fun, and I'm not going to stop sharing my bikini body – even when it's more burrito than buff. This weekend I am going to Mykonos. It will be hot. There will be a pool, a boat trip and hours spent lying on the beach. And yes, there will be bikini pictures.
'Would I post if I didn't have a six-pack? Hard to say'
I used to post topless photos on my Instagram page to attract new clients. People can see you are in good shape and so want to be coached by you. Now I post more candid topless pictures on the beach or in the gym. I'd never post anything raunchy, covered in oil and buffed up. It can come across as vain and I think it becomes a problem if 90 per cent of the pictures you are sharing are really contrived.
I've had my fair share of "you fancy yourself" comments from strangers on Instagram after I have posted a topless shot. Often I think it's more a reflection of how people think about themselves.
Would I post pictures if I didn't have a six-pack? It's hard to say. I am fortunate enough that fitness has always been part of my lifestyle, so I have always been in good shape. But as I grow older I am less concerned with having the best lighting or making sure I am fully tensed.
My pictures do get a lot of attention from women – and men. I have a gay following and there are lots of men who will comment and send me private messages after I post. Mostly they are harmless. At the end of the day, we are sexual beings. We are attracted to flesh, and if people look sexy it's an attractive thing. It's part of human nature. Ultimately, whether or not you are in good shape, I think the more people who are confident about their bodies and happy with them, the better.
'I'm basically naked. Is that embarrassing? No'
Sometimes I do think: is this inappropriate to post? I'm basically naked. Is that embarrassing? People can screen-shot images. What if someone at work saw it? On the other hand, if I'm having a good time and it's a picture I look good in, I want people to see it.
On Instagram you can edit photos easily, but on TikTok people's bodies are more normal because it's trickier to edit videos. I see lots of normal bodies in bikinis there. Sometimes I post photos and think, "It's good for people to see that I don't look like a supermodel but I still look nice and I am having a great time."
There's a line in Schitt's Creek where Moira Rose says, "Take a thousand naked pictures of yourself now … One day you will look at those and say, 'Dear God, I was a beautiful thing.' " I agree. I'm kind of like, "I look and feel great now, so I am going to document it."
'I had body dysmorphia. I have a point to prove'
Earlier in my 20s, I had body dysmorphia. I used to be a dancer and I grew up in a family that was always on a diet. I'd look in the mirror and pick myself apart. I was obsessed with the idea of having abs. I overexercised and under-ate and became underweight.
Now that I've recovered, I post bikini pictures to remind myself and people that follow me that you shouldn't hide things like cellulite or imperfect skin. As soon as you start editing photos, it creates false realities for everyone who sees those images, including yourself. When you then look in the mirror, you are comparing your own body with one that doesn't exist.
Sometimes my parents don't understand why I have to take pictures to prove my point. I always say to them that, back in their day, they had magazines. Models were really thin and diet culture was at its peak. I'm just trying to do my bit to change the story.
• DO smile. Trying to look ultra-sexy when you're barely wearing anything is a bit naff. A smouldering pout? Yes. A sexy lip bite? No.
• DON'T take a belfie. Not only is this pose a bit 2013 but it is the most unnatural, unsubtle way of forcing people to look at your bum.
• DO take the picture from below. When the camera is tilted up slightly, it makes you look taller and your legs longer. I've picked up this tip from my shorter friends. A true friend will kneel on the floor to help you achieve these shots.
• DON'T care if strangers stare at you while you're executing the above. They are just jealous they don't have friends who would do the same for them.
• DO be kind to yourself. My friends and I have a rule on holiday that we aren't allowed to say anything mean about how we look. There will be a day when we're old and wrinkly and nobody, not even strangers on Instagram, will want to see us in a bikini – and we'll look back at these photos and wonder why we ever complained.
Written by: Hannah Evans
© The Times of London
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